Ice Princess
by Choice
Summary: Puck assumes WRONG. Slightly NSFW.


**Ice Princess**

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The first fan fiction of my summer vacation! Woo! I really wish I took this to smuttier pastures, and I have this really tempting pool!sex _IDEA_ I want to use, but otherwise, I'm pretty satisfied with how this came out. (And as for that _IDEA_, I'll try to use it in my lifeguard!Puck work-in-progess, because I'm really beyond desperate to use my perverted brain in my writing. :P

Anyway, I hope you guys like this! **_Might be NSFW-doesn't have actual sex, just a bit of grinding, along with Puck eating Kurt's face because he can't resist._**

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Puck had always been under the assumption that he was the only dude with a piercing on campus. Except for, you know, those freaky emo twins that transferred from Jersey or something. And Kurt, the kid who flipped shit when he got paper cuts? If Puck had a list of Dudes Most Likely Pierced, Kurt wouldn't have even _made_ the list. He wouldn't even place-that one sniveling idiot that looked like Carrot Top would've probably been before Kurt.

But you know that saying-when you assume, you make an ASS out of U and ME? Yeah. Well, that's what happened.

So it was the end of the school year: they flunked Regionals, and while Puck was definitely (secretly) relieved that they'd have a chance to bounce back next year, the mere fact that Rachel was beginning to pester them all about a practice schedule for the _summer_ was making him seriously wonder when the hell he'd become one of the weenies.

He hated how he didn't actually _mind_ it, being a 'gleek.'

But anyway, in celebration of glee not being a fond memory for when they were going through mid-life crises-and, also, hel_lo_, school was out-Kurt and the girls planned a pool party at the Hummel house, because apparently Kurt's family was well off enough to own a pool that wasn't a blow-up piece of shit from Walmart.

On the last day of school, Kurt sashayed up to him, that familiar look of detached interest (and maybe a bit of distaste) on his pretty-boy face as he held out an obscenely colorful slip of paper. Puck looked down at the invitation stabbing him in the chest. "What the hell?"

"I know Mercedes and I already announced our little shindig yesterday during practice, but-" Here, he did one of his overdramatic put-upon sighs that made Puck want to roll his eyes. "Rachel insisted on breaking out her ridiculous Cricut, and Brittany started crying when I said no…" He huffed when he realized Puck wasn't even paying attention to him. "Look, 'you're invited' and all that jazz. The time of the party's on the back-pardon the puce and periwinkle color scheme, god, what was Rachel _thinking?_-and if you need directions, you have Mercedes' number, right? Good. See you."

Before Puck could even _blink_ away the spots in his vision from looking at Kurt's sequined vest, the boy was gone in a flurry of Italian designers and a strangely manly whiff of perfume. Huh. Puck woulda figured the dude would've gone with cotton candy-scented body spray from Claire's or some other tweenage girl store. (He should've taken that as his cue to reevaluate his other assumptions of Kurt Hummel, but _noo._)

So he found himself walking up to the house he used to TP, and he spotted a bright pink, doodle-covered Post-It on the front door that read 'Backyard'. Two star stickers-one gold, one sparkly-teal-kept the Post-It note from falling off the door.

He walked on a stone walkway that led to the backyard fence, gazing up at the Hummel roof with a sense of faint nostalgia. God, he'd been _so_ sloshed when he nailed all that furniture up there. It never ceased to amaze him that he was such an awesomely coordinated drunk.

Grating pop music seeped out to stab at his eardrums when he flipped the gate latch. When he walked in, he was assaulted with a strange sort of pride and contentment as he spied Tina and Brittany playing Chicken on Mercedes and Santana's shoulders in the pool while Quinn cheered them on; Mike, Matt and Artie arguing over an issue of _Game Informer_ by the food and drinks; Finn, Rachel and Kurt talking together as Finn cooked some burgers and dogs on the grill.

The last group seemed sort of stilted. Puck could sense the tension between Kurt and Rachel, but of course Finn was as intuitive as the patties he was flipping.

"Hey dudes, sup?" He nodded at the three, his hands shoved in his pockets as he watched Kurt snatch the metal spatula from Finn.

"Hello, Puck," Kurt said while quickly turning over some of the slightly charred burgers. "I'm just making sure Finn doesn't ruin our food."

"You said you _liked_ how I grilled your burger that one time!" Finn said, that kicked-puppy look on his face. Kurt looked like he was swallowing a mouthful of rusty nails.

Puck took pity on him enough to cut into the conversation. "Dude, I'm sorry, but you kind of end up turning burgers into pucks charcoal." Before he could smash the tentative truce they'd had going for them since that good ol' tire-slashing, Natty-guzzling night, he said, "But your smoothies? Bangin'."

Finn grinned like a dope. "You only like 'em cause they're like, mostly alcohol."

Rachel looked vaguely alarmed, her wide brown eyes closely examining her own drink. "Finn, I can_not_ consume alcoholic beverages, you know I got my psychic talent from one of my Two Gay Dads, and they _knew_ about that one Jell-O shot-"

Kurt rolled his eyes, sharing a look with a beyond amused Puck. "Rachel, chillax. I watched Finn make the smoothies-and after that one incident I refuse to mention, my father has any and all alcohol in our house under lock and key… and possibly motion-detection lasers. Rest assured, your drink is as virgin as they come."

"Like you?" Puck jibed, grinning up until Kurt stabbed him in the side with the metal tongs he was using to remove the hot dogs from the grill. "Ow-dude!" He yelped, jumping out of Kurt's extendo-clawed reach.

"Don't make comments like that without expecting consequences," Kurt said innocently, holding out a sizzling dog. "You want one?"

"Are they Kosher?" Puck asked as he scooped it up into a bun, barely waiting for Kurt's nod before he took a big chomp out of it. He hissed and tried to puff on his mouthful as the delicious meatiness burned his tongue. "Fuck, that's fuckin' hot."

Kurt rolled his eyes but wisely kept his comments to himself as he called everyone over for dinner.

Everyone spread out around the lawn furniture, and Puck wound up slouched up against one of the beach chairs that Kurt was sitting in. He was on his fourth dog, and smirked up at Kurt, daintily eating his own cheeseburger. "Nice buns," He leered.

Kurt gave him an unimpressed stare. "Hey, Fabio, you've got some ketchup on your face."

"What? Where?" Puck stuck his tongue out and tried to feel for it.

Kurt smirked, holding up a hand. "Right…" He wiped his hand across Puck's cheek. "There."

"Bitch!" Puck swiped some mustard off his hot dog and rubbed it in Kurt's hair. The boy gasped, and from somewhere off to their right he heard Mercedes gasp 'Oh no he _didn't_' before Kurt got this really creepy (and kind of hot) look on his face.

Puck scrambled up and out of the way, barely saving himself from a face full of Diet Coke. His arm, however, wasn't so lucky. He shook it off right in Kurt's face as a distraction as he grabbed a handful of jell-o (strawberry, sadly not beer-flavored) and mashed it against the back of Kurt's neck.

Kurt was laughing even as he screeched in indignation, and it was like a food war had been declared, because all of a sudden, he found himself dodging airborne globs of cole slaw while slinging pretzels over at a deceptively innocent-looking Artie.

He caught Kurt in the middle of shoving ice down his swimming trunks, grabbing his wrist as a fucking igloo's worth of ice cubes fell into his shorts and spinning him around. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck you, bitch!_" He hollered as he hopped up and down to shake the ice out of his shorts. Kurt was too busy crying with laughter to manage to shake off Puck's grip, which was a fatal mistake.

When the ice was either gone or melted, Puck growled and tugged Kurt, face flushed and still giggling like a lunatic, into his arms and manhandled him over to the in-ground pool. The mirth that shone in Kurt's pretty blue eyes gave way to slight trepidation, and then outright disbelief when he realized what was about to happen, and he managed to hop out of Puck's bridal hold.

Puck grinned, because Kurt couldn't shake him off completely. He took Kurt by the arms and dragged him the rest of the way to the pool, the others making way and laughing as they watched the events unfold.

Puck pushed Kurt into the pool without much trouble, but he didn't expect Kurt to wrap his arms around his waist, and he wound up with a mouthful of chlorinated water as he and Kurt tumbled into the pool.

They both sputtered and wheezed as they broke surface, looking like indignant drowned rats as their friends slapped their thighs and hooted with laughter.

"Puck, you moron! This was my favorite shirt-"

"It's fucking _Fruit of the Loom!"_ Puck said with a shit-eating grin. Kurt stuttered and scrambled for a witty retort, before settling on sheepishly sticking his tongue out at Puck as he wadded his wet t-shirt into a ball and chucked it at Puck's head.

Things wound down a bit after that, and the sun was beginning to set. Mercedes and Quinn left after the blonde shot Mercedes a Look that meant something in their strange silent language (it was scary how close those two had gotten since Quinn moved in with the Joneses), and everyone else was beginning to pack it in.

Puck was idly floating in the pool, shouting a goodbye to a waving Mike and Matt as they walked out through the gate when someone splashed their way in. He glanced over and offered Kurt a lopsided grin. "Didn't get enough water action when I chucked you in before?"

"This time is voluntary on my part, as you can see," Kurt said with a dirty look, splashing Puck in the face as he darted past. Puck rolled his eyes and snorted a spray of water.

"You need me to go get you some Tampax?" He asked, and had his smirk not been teasing, Kurt might've actually shoved him underwater. "So, pretty awesome party you threw."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed with a happy little sigh as he slipped onto a blow-up pool chair. "It was fun, even if Finn did manage to ruin half the hot dogs."

Puck laughed along with Kurt. "How can someone ruin _hot dogs?_"

"Who knows."

They settled into an amicable silence, only broken by the crickets chirping and the occasional 'bye' from leaving gleeks. Puck was busy trying to find the Northern Star when Finn came out to tell them he was going to drive Rachel home. "You staying the night, Puck?" Finn asked after a moment's hesitation.

Puck blinked, glancing over at Kurt who just shrugged. "Um, I dunno," He said slowly. "I guess-yeah, sure."

Finn shot him a relieved smile. "Awesome."

"You get the couch," Kurt said. "And I swear, if you even think of going into my bed-"

"Dude!"

"-to _draw on my face with Sharpie_… you guys really think I considered you jumping me in the middle of the night?" Kurt asked with disdain he didn't bother hiding. "No offense, but Puck? You're _sooo_ not my type."

Finn apparently decided this conversation was getting too awkward, and made his escape with a squeaky 'See ya later!' Puck barely noticed, because he was too busy scowling over at Kurt. "What the hell-'I'm not your type'? I'm _everyone's_ type."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yes, of _course_ you are. Your modesty is _really_ sexy." Puck was about to call him out on his bitchy sarcasm, but he was distracted by a sparkling glint when Kurt ran his hand down his flat stomach. Kurt's brow furrowed when he noticed Puck's staring. "What?"

"What the hell's that?"

Kurt looked down at himself in confusion, before making an _Ah_ of realization. "It's my belly button piercing."

If Puck had hair, his eyebrows would have reached his hairline. "Your _belly button piercing?_ Since when do _you_ have your _belly button_ pierced? And who gets their belly buttons pierced?"

"People get their navels pierced!"

"Yeah, _girls_."

Kurt huffed in indignation. "While I admit it's not _common_ for men to get it pierced, it's not totally unheard of. And… I like it." He toyed with the shiny barbell almost self-consciously. "You don't?"

"C'mere so I can see it better," Puck said, tugging Kurt's raft towards him to get a closer look. The one spherical end of the silver piercing rested against the slight ripple of Kurt's abdominal muscles, reflecting the orangey glow of the poolside lighting. The other end tapered off into a wickedly glinting diamond, princess-cut.

He swallowed compulsively, and didn't realize his eyes had been glued to the shiny object until Kurt cleared his throat. Puck hovered awkwardly over Kurt's stomach, meeting the boy's eyes. "Well?"

Puck could only manage a squeak of a response. "It's, um, nice."

Kurt's face fell. "You don't like it."

"No, I do!" Puck insisted. "It's actually kind of hot."

They fell into a stunned silence. Before Puck could take it back, Kurt's mouth curved up into a cheeky grin. "Oh, really now?" He asked with amusement. "Does Puck like shiny things? Are you-_mmph!_" Puck found another thing to add to his list of the pros of kissing: it made it impossible for Kurt to yap his mouth off like a prissy little Yorkie.

Sadly, the raft Kurt was sprawled out on wasn't made to support two people, and Puck and Kurt found themselves choking on pool water for the second time that night.

Puck grinned as Kurt gasped for air, reaching over to fix the boy's bangs and pull him close. The tiny jab of Kurt's piercing against Puck's groin made his dick twitch. "You know, this totally makes Ice Princess a valid nickname."

Kurt smirked dangerously, and Puck felt himself get even harder against Kurt's thigh. "Oh, I don't think you'll be saying that for long," He purred as he groped at Puck's dick through his swimming trunks. Puck whimpered, slipping against the pool floor as he tried to spread his legs out.

Maybe making assumptions makes an ASS out of U and ME, but there's another thing Puck found out about assumptions: they made you pleasantly surprised (and _crazy _turned-on) when you found out that Kurt Hummel might not have been as virginal as he let on.


End file.
